


In Place

by daphnerunning



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:18:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zenigata's hands are rough in his hair, just like Oscar always hoped they'd be, and he's finally on his knees where he belongs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Place

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [In Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8210305) by [miriam_lee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miriam_lee/pseuds/miriam_lee)



Zenigata’s hands are rough, worn, and demanding.

 

They fist in his hair, rubbing harsh across the skin of his face, and Oscar feels his pulse leap under the touch, feels himself shudder, even as he tries to remember that he’s not a whore, he’s not a wanton slut like the trash the inspector usually fucks in this office.

 

He can’t even tell if that makes it better or worse when he sinks to his knees with a low groan, wishing with every pounding heartbeat that Zenigata would at least kiss him, give him some little softness before shoving him under the desk.

 

As soon as he wishes it--selfish, whorish--the man’s thumb strokes over his lips, almost gentle. “Good,” he hears, a low rumble of approval, and that’s more than he’s ever needed from someone he respects, someone he bloody _worships_ like this.

 

That pig-harlot is trash, nothing but, broken and used and filthy and _stupid_ if she had to fake an orgasm with Zenigata. Oscar’s on the edge already, achingly hard against the tightness of his rough linen trousers, from nothing but feeling Zenigata nudge against his cheek, apply gentle pressure to his chin, and murmur, “You know how to put your mouth to good use, don’t you, Oscar?”

 

He doesn’t, but for Zenigata he’ll try. He closes his lips around the head, a sharp inhalation of breath at the way it’s the oddest sensation, the strangest feeling against his tongue, the largest stretch of his lips, and the way it swells in his mouth.

 

“You’re trembling. Are you--”

 

Oscar leans forward hard, sucking him in, moaning deep because he wants, needs Zenigata to know that it’s not fear, it’s not uncertainty, it’s that he’s finally, _finally_ here, finally _tasting_ , finally good enough and in his proper place and the _only one here_ after so fucking long.

 

“Not such a prude now, hmm? Still think it’s unprofessional for me to get them off in my office?”

 

_Not bad to screw in your office. Bad to screw garbage who doesn’t even worship you like I do. God, tell me I’m good at this._

 

Zenigata chuckles, hips twitching as he fists his hands tightly in Oscar’s hair, dragging him down hard. “I’d think you were too good to be a virgin. But I know what a giant stick you’ve got up your ass, Oscar. You’ve been _waiting_ , haven’t you?”

 

_Waiting for you, sir._

 

It’s too big, and he has no idea how anyone _does_ this without choking, and the hands in his hair are too tight, and he comes blindingly hard, soiling the front of his trousers with a pleading whimper, struggling to work his tongue somehow, some way that Zeingata might _like_. 

 

He looks up, and Zenigata’s eyes are brighter than the glowing end of his cigarette. His breath hitches, and he pulls back just far enough to come across Oscar’s tongue, flooding his mouth, holding his eyes the entire time.

 

Then, the Inspector exhales a long breath, blowing smoke out to the side. “That’s right. Good.”

 

It’s good, and it’s right, and Oscar’s never been so happy to be in his place.


End file.
